


god is cumming and she's a screamer

by Schwoozie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwoozie/pseuds/Schwoozie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting drunk at a party, Beth screws a certain sheriff-in-training. She doesn't expect to run into his roommate in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flippantninny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippantninny/gifts).



> Blame Aimee as usual.
> 
> First chapter unbeta'd.

Beth wakes to the sound of pots banging in the kitchen, and if she had the means she'd blow her brains out right there and then.

She'd never made the active decision to fuck him; didn't march across the frat house and drag him in by the collar until their bodies were fused from chest to toe. They'd just sort of slid together; one minute they were chatting side by side and the next she was in his lap, grinding on his erection and drunk-delirious to the hoots of the rest of the frat.

She doesn't even know why he was at that party, come to think of it. Mild mannered Rick Grimes—who sits quietly in the back of her criminal law class, usually next to his douchebag friend who she's sure was checking out her mom on parent's weekend. She remembers him saying something about wanting to be a sheriff back home in King's County—right before she stuck her tongue down his throat. Beth usually isn't a handsy drunk, but his lips were pink and his eyes were blue and when she is, she doesn't compromise.

Still. Waking up in an unfamiliar bed; a near-stranger's cum dried and sticky on her thighs. Beth's done this more times than anyone would believe she has, but it never gets any less weird.

Meanwhile, the pots are still banging and Beth's head is throbbing and she's never drinking jungle juice again.

Groaning, Beth levers herself up and drops her head in her hands, rubbing her temples and stretching her toes to try and get some feeling back in them. Bits and flashes of what happened the night before are coming back to her, and she flushes as she remembers how she acted—whining and panting like a bitch in heat, coming twice over as he spanked her ass and drove into her from behind. She can't help giving a groaning chuckle when she imagines what Maggie would say—remembers telling her about her first time with Jimmy in the Waffle House parking lot, how pale she got when Beth mentioned the spanking. Or the attempted spanking; Jimmy'd swatted at her a few times before going off like a bottle rocket, not even bothering to finish her of before blushing and tucking himself into his pants. Grimes, at least, knew what he was doing.

Which is more than she can say for his cooking skills, because he's still making an inordinate amount of noise. Which really makes no sense—he should be at least as bad off as she is. Regardless, he's awake and out there and Beth doesn't have anything to gain by sitting around here.

Leaving her beer-soaked top on the floor (the bottle must have tipped while they were making out, because his polo is just as filthy) Beth shimmies into her panties and grabs a button-down from his closet. Barefooted and tousle-haired, she inches her way out of the bedroom.

Beth freezes on the other side of the door, blinking slowly through her hangover.

Unless, overnight, Rick grew his hair three inches and new arms like tree trunks, she doesn't think that's him in the kitchen.

The man must have bat hearing because she's sure she hasn't made a sound when he looks at her over his shoulder, scruff scratching the bronzed skin of his deltoid. He's sweaty like he just came in from a run, and Beth can smell the sharp odor of his maleness from where she stands.

She can also smell the bacon sizzling in the frying pan. And that prompts her to take a step closer. 

"Hi," she says, smiling and giving a little wave.

He grunts, and turns back to the stove.

Beth blinks a few times, then shrugs it off and makes her way to the table, plopping down with one leg curled under her. She picks at a stray straw wrapper while humming under her breath.

There's a few moments of nothing but the sound of popping fat before Beth looks up and sees the man staring at her. His eyes dart away when her gaze meets his, but he doesn't turn back to the griddle either.

"What?" Beth asks, pushing some hair away from her face.

The man shrugs. "Pictured you different, 's all."

Beth frowns. "Pictured me?"

"Don't look like a screamer."

It takes several moments for his meaning to sink in. Beth's cheeks flare red.

"Uh, I'm sorry?"

"Should be," he grumbles. He seems to have taken a very vested and very angry interest in her toes, where they dangle several inches off the ground. "Kept me up the whole goddamned night."

"Sorry," Beth says again. She smiles awkwardly. "I got real drunk. Don't remember much, really."

The man's eyes hook on hers for a moment, making her catch her breath. He "humphs", then turns back to the stove.

Beth rests her chin on her hand, studying the width of the man's shoulders. "I thought Rick lived with that other guy. Shane."

The man snorts loudly. "Rick grew up with the prick, don't mean he has to live with him."

"Who are you then?"

"Aunt Jemima." The man flips off the stove and reaches into the cabinet for a plate. He glances back at her. "You thinking of waiting for Rick, don't bother; he won't be back for a few hours."

Beth shrugs. "Ain't got nowhere better to be. If I ain't here I'd just be studying."

“Ought'a go do that then,” the man grumbles, shaking the bacon onto his plate.

“You trying to get rid of me?”

“I ain't inviting you to a tea party.”

“Fine.” Beth grins, wiggling in her seat. "Might just have a little bacon before I go.”

The man turns around, glaring at her. “Your hands touch my bacon you're gonna lose them.”

Beth just smiles. The man looks away.

“Come on. One piece?”

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, and Beth feels something heat up inside her, like her body's pressed up against hot coals. She has a sudden urge to check whether her cleavage is showing.

Before she can get too flustered he grunts again, striding over to the table and shoving the plate towards her. He drops loudly into the chair across from her, scowling. 

“Eat your piece and get out of here. I got stuff to do.”

“Yes sir.” Beth picks up a piece between a dainty thumb and forefinger, blowing on it a few times before biting off a corner. She chews slowly, smiling. “Not bad.”

“I look like the kinda man screws up bacon?”

“The way you were banging around before, sure didn't sound like you knew what you were doing.”

He shifts in his seat, scratching at his ear before grabbing a strip and ripping half of it off in one bite. He chews loudly, not looking at her.

Beth breaks off another small piece.

She looks up as the man jerks his chin at her. “Your head bad?”

Beth shrugs. “I've had worse. My daddy taught me how to deal with them.”

He snorts. “How's that? Hooch time for the whole family?”

“He had some drinking problems for a while. Actually.” Beth looks down at the piece in her hands. “Mama tried to hide it, but it ain't hard to tell what's going on when your daddy comes home blind drunk six days of the week. Even for a kid.” Beth glances up. The man is looking at her intently. She shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “It's alright. He's doing better now. Sober eighteen months.”

“That's good,” the man says hoarsely. He seems to have forgotten the bacon in his hand; a dribble of grease is winding its way down his thumb. “He ever, uh...”

Beth shakes her head sharply, wincing at the spike of pain it sends through her skull. “No, no, nothing like that. Just got loud, knocked stuff over.” Beth tilts her head, studying him. “Your daddy like that?”

The man is quiet for so long Beth thinks he's forgotten the question. She's about to repeat it when he glances up at her through his bangs. He looks at her, and she closes her mouth, swallows. She reaches her hand out towards his where it's laid flat on the table. The muscle in his wrist jumps like he's ready to pull it away, but he doesn't; just lets her hand rest on his hand, pulse of her thumb quiet and steady as it sweeps across his knuckles.

“Hey,” she says, ducking her head to meet his eyes. “You're here now.” She smiles, squeezes his hand. “You make damn good bacon. That's what matters.”

His mouth quirks as he glances between her eyes and their hands. His thumb moves back and forth a few times, stroking hers. She swallows against the quickening thump in her throat.

“Yeah,” he says. He nudges the plate towards her. “Have some more.”

Beth grins, taking another piece with her other hand. The one on his, she leaves where it is, surprisingly comfortable draped across his scarred knuckles.

“Thought you didn't want me eating your bacon?”

He shrugs, twisting his thumb around hers until they're locked together. “Made too much anyway.”

“I'm glad you did.”

_ I must still be a little drunk _ , Beth thinks; there's no other way to explain the way she feels when he looks at her now, peeking once more between his bangs but this time allowing his eyes a slow slide up her torso, lingering at her collarbones before looking her full in the face. She wants to move her hand, needs to move her hand, but by now he's holding her fast.

“What's your name anyway?” she blurts. She forces a chuckle. “And don't say Aunt Jemima.”

He smirks with just one side of his mouth. “Daryl,” he says.

“Beth,” she says.

As they chew their food, their eyes slowly migrate to their hands still together on the table. Slowly, Beth spreads her fingers and slides them between and around his until they're properly entwined. She looks up, and he's looking at her face.

_ He has blue eyes too _ , Beth thinks, watching him back.  _ Darker. Harder to see. But blue _ .

Daryl swallows, bites the inside of his lip. Under the table, she feels his socked foot brush against her bare one.

“I'm a screamer, huh?”

Her foot presses down on his. Daryl smiles.

“Guess we'll see.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since the girl of yellow and pink walked out of Rick's bedroom; it's been a week, and Daryl can't stop thinking about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million praises to Mary for her beta'ing :)

It's been a week and Daryl can't stop thinking about her.

Daryl is used to Rick and his co-eds, although his usual taste tends towards tall and dark, bottomless brown eyes and sultry smiles; he'd been surprised, then, to turn and be greeted by a vision in blonde and pink. Especially after the concert he'd been treated to the night before—feminine gasps and moans, Rick's grunts thicker than he'd heard them since his and Rick’s drunk make-out session in that garage in Atlanta—he expected a bombshell, someone fit for magazine covers. Not this delicate thing, with a tripping farm girl voice and breasts that barely tented the front of her shirt.

He'd hid, after she went back to Rick's room; sprinted like a coward to his bedroom, locking the door and turning out the lights and standing trembling and nervous until he heard the click of the front door.

Then he'd gone to the bathroom and beat himself off until he couldn't remember his own name.

He can't stop thinking about her; how his comment, about the screams, made a delicate blush rise across her cheeks. His wrist felt cold when she finally took her hand from his, tucking her hair behind her ear with a shy little smile. That's what gets him, even more than the rest of it—the way the tips of her fingers dragged just so across her temple, the crook of her lip like she hadn't wandered out there pink and gold like a just-fucked Robin Wright, hadn't trapped his foot under her delicate toes, hadn't sent his whole world spinning on its axis—that she could look at him like that, like she didn't understand what she was doing any more than he did—that's the part he can't stop remembering.

And then of course she stood up. Smiled, thanked him for the bacon, and left pretty as you please, tripping back to Rick's room, pink cotton panties flickering beneath the hem of his shirt. Daryl will never be able to look at that shirt again without getting hard, not with it all tangled up in the scent of her, pungent and heady as it flicked from the ends of her hair. For a moment it was too much, the sudden rush of wanting—to stride through the door and take her face in his hands and kiss her like he'd heard Rick doing, all night long, all over, mouthing at her skin from the top of her head to the soles of her feet and to the ends of her pretty toes. They were painted green, Daryl remembers. Somewhere between forest and lime. Rick thought it was cute, he told him later, for her toes to be the same as her name.

Greene. Beth Greene.

The Beth Greene he fucked all night long.

Daryl thinks about her as he stands a little behind Rick and to the side, waiting for him to finish chatting with Andrea about God knows what so Daryl can give him a lift to the grocery store. Daryl would be content living off the bread and jam they have in the cupboards—hell, he's made due with less—but Rick grew up in one of those hippie families that hangs framed paintings of eggplants in their kitchens. Not that Daryl minds eating that way—he never shits so well as he does after a night at Mama Grimes's—but preparing it for himself is a hassle he doesn't need. He doesn't know how Rick finds the time to eat so well, not when they're both fourth year grad students and Daryl can barely find the energy to take a piss, most nights.

He doesn't know how Rick has time for girls either. Doesn't know why he goes to those parties and gets shitfaced when they could do it like they used to, side by side in Daryl's shitty first floor dorm, chugging tequila until Rick's grin turned loose and begging to be sucked. It was always hard, those long nights, to feel the weight of Rick's arm against his and not want that warmth all over him; hard to hand off the bottle and pretend not to shiver when their fingers brushed. Daryl's always been good with booze, though, and he held it together; and even if Rick noticed, even after that night in Atlanta, Rick never mentions it and they live together just fine.

Daryl glances between Rick and Andrea, eyeing their body language, trying to figure out if they've fucked or not. She's more Shane's style than Rick's; the hardass chick, walks like she has a dick between her legs. She'll make a great lawyer, Daryl knows, just like he knows she and Rick share the same criminal law class; the same class they share with Beth.

He wonders if Andrea's noticed her. He wonders if she wants her too.

Andrea punches Daryl's arm and he jerks out of his thoughts, nodding gruffly as she waves goodbye. Rick is looking at him strangely.

“You alright, man?” Rick asks, ducking his head like he does when he wants someone's attention. Bastard.

Daryl grunts, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It's fuckin' cold.”

Rick squints at him. “You sure that's all it is?”

“Yeah,” Daryl says shortly. “Now com'mon, before the roads...”

Daryl trails off. A flash of blonde catches his eye over Rick's shoulder, and there—there she is; walking out of the education building, chatting with a guy handsome enough that Daryl bristles. When she looks up and catches Daryl's eye, though, she stops short, the boy going a few steps farther before he's realized she's paused. Her sharp blue gaze makes Daryl forget him quickly. Beth blinks at him, and Daryl stares at her, and he feels all the blood in his body rush to his cheeks as a small smile blooms on her face. She puts a hand on the boy's arm and says a few words; then he's walking away and she's coming towards them and Daryl's heart is beating so fast it's nearly painful.

“You alright, Daryl? Thought you wanted to get going...”

Daryl jerks his chin in her direction, not trusting his voice to work. Rick frowns and turns, then looks back towards Daryl with a question in his eyes. Daryl swallows.

She's slowed to a stop and is standing in front of them now. Her ponytail is nearly undone and her cheeks pink from the ravages of the chill wind. She wears a backpack slung over one shoulder, her torso tiny in an oversized Senoia High sweatshirt. Her Chucks are small and green, like her toes, like her name.

She smiles between the two of them, completely at ease. “Hey,” she says.

Rick gives Daryl one more look before turning to her. “Hey there, Beth,” he says.

“Missed you in class this week.”

“Had to take my mom to the doctor.”

Beth takes a step closer. Daryl barely stops himself from stepping back. “Is she alright?”

“Sprained her foot; she’ll be alright.” Rick looks between the two of them. “You two know each other?”

Her wry smile is turned on Daryl now, and he feels faint.

“I stole his bacon when you ditched me.”

Rick manages to look contrite. “I'm real sorry about that. I had an exam, I forgot to tell you—“

“Hey, it's alright; Daryl took care of me.”

Daryl's face heats even more under Rick's scrutiny. “Did he, now?”

“Yup,” she says, popping the 'p', giggling at Daryl's expense. “Never got to thank either of you.”

“It's our pleasure,” Rick says slowly. Beth is full on grinning now.

“You know, I have some alcohol left over from the last time my sister visited; wanna help me get rid of it?”

A slow smile slides across Rick's face. “Both of us?”

Beth smiles, looking at Daryl. “Don't want to leave anyone out.”

Daryl looks down at his feet to avoid Rick's gaze. He hears them confirm the time, the place—Friday at eight, their apartment, her booze—and he doesn't look up until the weight of a small hand falls on his bicep, squeezing softly. He looks into her blue eyes, turned up into the light.

“I'll see you then, Daryl?” she asks.

She bites her lip, like she doesn't know his answer.

“Yeah,” he says, hoarse. She smiles and pats his arm, two light touches, before turning to Rick.

“See you then.”

They both watch her as she walks off, ponytail swinging behind her, Chucks making barely a whisper on the brick walk. Daryl can feel Rick's eyes on him so he concentrates on not looking at her ass, perfectly shaped in her tight blue jeans.

“Daryl,” Rick says.

“Hmmph,” Daryl grunts, glancing at him. Both of Rick's eyebrows are raised, and Daryl feels a flicker of long-ago fear, of the men in the bars his dad used to drag him and Merle to. He takes an instinctive step back. “I didn't touch her, man!”

“Mmhm,” Rick says, measuring the distance between them and declining to come closer. “Why was she lookin' at you like a juicy piece of meat, then?”

“I'unno,” Daryl grumbles, squinting in a random direction. “Looks at everyone like that, maybe.”

“I wouldn't say that.” Rick's tilting his damn head again. “You ok with inviting her over? I don't want to put you in any kind of position.”

“What position would that be?”

Daryl looks at him now. His eyebrows are still raised, but knit with concern. Daryl forces himself to breathe.

“She what's been bothering you?”

Daryl clears his throat. “You saw her first, man. I ain't stepping past you.”

“I figure it's her decision, not mine,” Rick says. He's still looking at Daryl. He starts to smile, then chuckles. “I told you it'd happen one day, man.”

“What?”

“You wanting someone.”

Daryl blinks at Rick and his shiny red lips. It feels like a spiral has opened between his mind and his belly, sucking him in.

“Shut up,” he says.

“I can tell you what she likes, she wasn’t that hard to please—“

“Stop.”

“Came like a rocket—“

“Stop!”

Rick is full on laughing now. He claps Daryl on the arm, right where she had touched him. “Sorry, man. She's a great girl, in bed and out. You want me to make myself mysteriously absent?”

Daryl shakes his head instantly. “Nah. You'd better be there.”

Rick's expression relaxes, gentles, and Daryl feels suddenly vulnerable. “I'm always there for you, Daryl. You know that.”

Daryl shrugs uncomfortably, flexing his hands in his pockets. “A'right, man, whatever. Com'mon, let's get your fucking rabbit food.”

Rick laughs again, clapping Daryl on the shoulder, before leading the way towards the car. Daryl waits a few beats before following him, watching him walk the same path as Beth had before him. He follows, and is barely surprised when his eyes begin to drift, right to where they’d looked on her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth visits Daryl and Rick's apartment. Stuff and thangs ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Beth stands outside their apartment door, wine in one hand, tequila in the other, trying to calm the thundering of her heart.

 _They're guys. Normal guys. Calm the heck down, Beth._ But she can't calm down. Hasn't been able to calm down since she walked away from them on the terrace outside the education building, the weight of their gazes like barbells on her back. She'd be the first to admit she hadn't been thinking straight; had just come from an exam, and the crisp cool air on her cheeks made her giddy enough without the sight of two hot guys waiting for her. And boy, they were hot. Rick in his letterman jacket and Daryl in his leather, tall and broad and deep-voiced as they said hello, exchanged pleasantries like she hadn't fucked one and flirted with the other. Like she wasn't about to imply what she thinks she implied. Like she was still the wholesome, ponytailed girl who'd driven a pickup truck on Daddy's farm.

And now she's standing outside their door, wine in one hand, tequila in the other, cunt throbbing with the promise that at least one of them would be fucking her tonight. At least one.

_Don't wanna leave anyone out._

Christ.

She'd almost gone to Maggie for advice. Almost. Got as far as the second ring before hanging up, texting her quickly that she'd pocket dialed. It felt weird not to tell her something like this; Beth knows most if not all of her sister's dirty secrets; had to distract Daddy to keep quiet at least half of them. But how, Beth wonders, _how_ do you tell your sister that you're a 19 year old sophomore in college about to get it on with not one, but two grad students, one of whom you'd practically seduced on the kitchen table the morning after screwing his best friend? What do you even _do_ with that?

And now she's standing outside their apartment door, thinking maybe they'll go farther than just screwing one of them. Hoping they'll go farther. Remembering how rough Rick's hands had been, even sloshed, when he moved her around the bed; how indiscriminate he'd been about the bruises he left on her skin. Remembering, too, the sparks that flew from Daryl's flesh to hers when her toes brushed his ankle; the way his gaze made her feel overheated and rocked with chills all at once, like butterflies had erupted under her skin. If she had to choose, she doesn't know which she'd pick, Rick's bruises or Daryl's butterflies. Part of her hopes she won't have to.

She can just make out the rumble of male voices through the door, the steady thump of footsteps like one of them is pacing. She sucks in a deep breath, choking out the bottles in her fists.

 _I am Beth goddamned Greene,_ she thinks. _It takes more than a couple of guys to scare me._

Biting her lip, she thumps on the door.

The noises from inside cut out immediately. After a few moments she hears a scramble of footsteps and the lock being turned and then there's Rick in a zip-up green sweater, leaning on the doorframe and smiling at her. She raises the bottles in salute.

“Hey,” she says.

He grins, slow and wide, looking her up and down in a way that makes her shiver. “Hey, Beth,” he says. “Looks like you came prepared.”

She doesn't think about the condoms taking up half of her purse. She _doesn't._

“Couldn't do it alone,” she says.

Rick steps aside to let her in the door. It closes with a final sounding click behind her.

Her eyes are instantly drawn to Daryl where he hovers awkwardly by the couch. He's wearing sleeves, this time, a checkered button-up that nonetheless clings sinfully to his upper body. He's hunched over like he needs the protection, looking at her shyly. Her heart gives two hard beats, affection flooding her veins. “Hey Daryl,” she says.

He grunts something noncommittal back at her, but she doesn't miss the way his cheeks pink.

“Lemme get those for you,” Rick says, sweeping the bottles out of her hands. “Toss your coat anywhere.”

She folds her jacket neatly over the back of an armchair and slips out of her snow boots, wiggling her socked toes a few times in contentment. Daryl's still hovering in the corner, blushing and looking at her feet. A wave of heat sweeps through Beth's body at his bashfulness, and it makes her bold.

“You like my sweater, Daryl?” she asks.

He looks up at it, pink and fuzzy and baring an inch of her midriff, accentuating what few curves she has. By the time his eyes reach her face, her cheeks are as hot as his. Even across the room, his eyes are intense and very, very blue.

“Man, your sister got you the good stuff,” Rick says. “You fine with opening both?”

Beth shrugs, not looking away from Daryl. “Got nothing better to do with them.”

They each do a shot of tequila before pouring glasses of wine and settling onto the couch, Beth in the middle, Daryl pressed against the arm and Rick relaxed and wine-warm at her side. She giggles when _The Princess Bride_ comes up as first in their queue.

“It's Daryl's favorite,” Rick says with a grin, barely ducking out of the way when Daryl swats at him over Beth's head. Beth's laugh threatens to turn into something else when the movement settles him closer to her, a bundle of Daryl-warmth bleeding through her sweater. She tries to sit still as the movie starts; tries to pretend that by the time Wesley is confessing his love she hasn't noticed Rick inching closer until his arm runs down the length of hers. She glances at him and he's squinting at the TV, blue eyes two inviting slits, lips plump and pursed and red.

“Rick,” she says. He turns, opens his mouth to ask, and she kisses him.

She's only buzzed this time, not near drunk, and so she feels every movement of his lips against hers—slick and smooth and soft as she remembers, but more so, the tenor of their pull on her ringing in her near-clear head. She raises a hand to run along his jaw and tangle in the curls at the base of his neck, pulling him in closer as she opens her mouth and welcomes the wet heat of his tongue, strong and probing. She moans loudly against him from deep in her throat, grunting a little when his teeth close gently on her tongue.

It's only then that she becomes aware of Daryl shifting behind her, of his weight sliding away like he intends to rise. Without thinking her hand darts back to grasp whatever she can find—she thinks it's the front of his shirt—and drags him back so he flops against her and hears the word she breathes into Rick's mouth— _Stay._

And then Rick's mouth is moving away from her lips, sucking open mouthed kisses into her jaw before reaching her neck and that special spot beneath her ear that makes her want to pass out. She presses her chest up against him and grips his hair and shoulder blade as he moves up and down her neck, alternating between sucking kisses and long, slow licks down her jugular. Beth bites her lip as his hand glides up her side beneath her sweater, and she can barely think when he tugs gently at the band of her bra, only pulls back and flings the sweater over her head so she sits nearly bare between them.

Daryl makes an indecipherable noise behind her as she sits, strangely calm but for the pounding of her heart, watching Rick run greedy eyes over her torso. His eyes stop at her pulse, bouncing rabbit-like in her throat, and he tilts his head, licks his already slick and shining lips.

“Why don't you take her bra off, Daryl?”

Beth doesn't look away from Rick—from his punch-red mouth to the crescent indents her nails made at his temple—but she holds her breath, waiting for Daryl's reply. Rick glances over her shoulder, and there must be meaning in that glance, for the next moment she feels Daryl's callused fingers sliding up the peach-fuzz of her lower back. His hands are chilled and she shivers violently, more from the excitement than any discomfort, but it still makes him stop—so she reaches behind her to grasp his hands and bring them around in front of her and settle across her breasts.

“It's alright,” she says, still looking at Rick, still watching the flick of his irises as Daryl's hands slowly, haltingly, begin to move beneath hers—and there's enough padding in her pushup that the sensation is dulled but it still makes her moan, his fumbling, hesitant hands as Rick slides a hand to the dip of her waist, thumbing the curve. He looks over Beth's shoulder again and Daryl's getting bolder, yanking Beth back so she falls against his chest with a gasp as Rick leans down to tongue at her collarbone.

She's spinning, she's in heaven, it's nearly too much and they've barely begun as Rick moves back to her mouth, pushing into her until she releases Daryl's hands to wrap her arms under Rick's, pulling him in for a wet kiss that smacks obscenely in the still apartment. Daryl's hands slowly pull out from between them. She feels bereft with only air between her and Rick and she's about to mewl in distress when she feels Daryl's hands again on her back, sliding along the band of her bra until he reaches the clasp. After several tries, and muffled curses that make her grin, the band snaps loose. She sighs into Rick's mouth, into the sensation of her breasts dropping free, heavy enough to act as weights in Rick's palms as he brings his hands up to cup her flesh, roll his thumbs over her nipples and gasp greedily into her mouth. Beth bites his lip as he pushes into her roughly, giving her just the right amount of nail to counter the soft drag of Daryl's hands up her back, spreading over her shoulder blades in a massage that leaves her draped carelessly across Rick, straining only to place her breasts deeper in his hands—

Something crashes on the screen and Beth jumps—not violently, but enough to detach her mouth from Rick's and make them all pause.

Daryl's hands leap away from her and Rick draws back, breathing heavily through his nose, slowly pulling his hands from her breasts. Beth's still leaning against him, one hand pressed for support against his shoulder.

“Beth,” he says.

“I wanna do this,” Beth says before he can get anything else out. Rick's eyes continue to ask the question. She turns to look over her shoulder, and her heart stutters at what she sees—Daryl's eyes wild and lost, half hidden behind a hanging fringe. “I wanna do this with both of you,” Beth breathes, holding his gaze.

The resulting silence is long and heavy. She breathes deeply, trying to calm her heart rate, give them time to decide. She has no doubt they both want her—she can practically feel their dicks pulsing beneath their pants, and it gives her a headiness like no other. No, in the end it's Rick's choice—she can feel his dominance in the men's relationship, knows that no matter what Daryl wants, if Rick decides he'll go with him—and yet it's Daryl that Beth looks at. Daryl whose eyes she bores into until an even deeper flush spreads across her face and neck. She can hear Rick's quiet breathing behind her.

Daryl looks over her shoulder for a long, long moment, something indecipherable yet bone deep passing through his eyes. Whatever he sees in Rick's makes him swallow heavily. His jaw clenches and he turns back to her, roaming over her face before dipping down to her chest, lingering on her puckered nipples. He swallows again, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opens them, they're so resolute they make her gasp—and a heartbeat's barely passed before he's tangled a hand in her hair and is dragging her towards his mouth.

Where Rick's lips were smooth and practiced Daryl's are chapped and sloppy, moving awkwardly until she sets a rhythm for both of them. But even so, something in his kiss sets her on fire—in the earnestness of it, the eagerness to please that throws him open-mouthed against her as she moans deep into his throat. She turns away from Rick so she can throw her arms around Daryl's neck and press against him, feel the roughness of his shirt rasp deliciously against her nipples. It's in the back of her mind to worry, but Rick doesn't seem to take offense; just moves her ponytail to one side and kisses across her shoulder to her neck and back, nipping with his teeth every time Daryl grunts. Daryl has both hands on her waist and she again has to lead him, taking his hand and placing it gently on her breast and she thinks he might pass out, the sound he makes; he breaks away from the kiss and presses his forehead to hers, breathing harshly as they watch his hand heft her breast, roll the nipple and dimple the flesh.

“Fuck, Beth,” he rasps.

“Please,” she murmurs, kissing the hollow by his nose and then his cheek and mouth. Rick snorts out a laugh at her plea, framing her hips with his hands and dipping his pinkies below the waist of her jeans.

“Don't worry, sweetheart, we will,” Rick says, right in her ear, the hot air washing across her face and onto Daryl's and they both shiver a little with the weight of it. Beth arches her neck as Rick snakes his hand around her waist to tickle the skin around her belly button; Beth peeks through slitted eyes and sees Daryl's eyes glued to Rick's hand, his own still rubbing absent-mindedly at her breast. Beth squeezes his arm to get his attention; he presses his thumb against her in a way that makes her moan, but he's still watching Rick's hand, circling on Beth's stomach.

Rick noses Beth's hair out of the way and sucks on her earlobe. His stubble is rough on her cheek.

“You want me to touch her, Daryl?”

Beth whimpers.

Daryl's face is very close, angled towards Rick's; he licks his lips, and Beth can't help leaning forward to help him, kissing the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Her legs are starting to ache from their twisted position and she's downright trembling with want, every nerve ending strung on a line between Rick's hand and Daryl's, still playing with her breast. She's watching Daryl but he's looking at Rick, lips wet and pupils blown; he looks at Beth, and a smirk starts to tug at his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says.

And Rick does.

He doesn't even bother with the button of her jeans; just slides his hand below the waistline to tease the hair, her sensitive skin. Beth holds onto Daryl with one arm while reaching back to thread her fingers through Rick's hair with the other, leaning her head back onto his shoulder while Daryl's hand finally moves on from her breast, sliding down her ribs to cup her lower back. Rick grunts as his hand strains to reach in the confined space, and before Beth can move Daryl's hand is there; his hand brushes Rick's knuckles and he meets her eyes and stutters; but then he's undoing the button of her jeans and Rick finds her clit with a sigh.

“Ooohhhhhhh,” Beth moans, arching her back and pulling one leg up onto the sofa, nearly kneeing Daryl in the nose in her desperation to spread her legs, let Rick work, feel his talented fingers roll over her bud and sink between her lips. He gives her a few strokes before she feels him move behind her, pulling both his legs onto the couch with her framed between them. He presses on her button several times before she gets the hint, scooching back so she can lean on him leaning on the arm, feel him flex his hips as her body puts pressure on the bulge in his pants. The moment Beth's legs fall open Rick slides a finger inside her, arching her back and breeding a breathy gasp.

“God, you're wet,” Rick says as if to himself, tone high and rasped with wonder. Beth whimpers again. Rick starts a rhythm, thrusting in and out and grinding down, withdrawing his finger every few passes to spread her juices along her clit. Beth grips Rick's thighs with white knuckled hands, her head tossing against his chest as the pressure builds inside her. She opens her eyes to slits and sees Daryl kneeling at the other end of the couch, palming his crotch and looking ravenous.

“Wait, Rick, wait,” Beth gasps, grabbing his forearm. He stops immediately, his hand stilling over her mound.

“What, baby?” he asks, low.

She can hardly form the words, she's breathing so heavily.

“I want Daryl kissing me.”

Rick's chuckles are deep in her ear. He starts rubbing her again, slowly, in circles, making her legs clench.

“Think we can manage that, huh?”

“Fuck,” she swears, trembling with the effort of keeping her orgasm at bay. She looks at Daryl, wild. He seems frozen, eyes flicking from hers to Rick's and back. “Com'mon, Daryl, please, please—“

Rick cuts her off by biting her neck, and by the time she's recovered Daryl has crawled up the couch and covered her body with his and captured her lips in a burning kiss.

Beth keens into his mouth, gripping his hair with one hand and Rick's thigh with the other, grinding deep into his crotch. Rick strums on her clit in earnest, building her higher and higher as Daryl palms her ass and bites her lip and groans right along with her as she comes, biting his lip and moaning into a body-wracking tremble.

They're still working her as she comes down, and she has to grab Rick's wrist again when it gets to be too much. He withdraws obligingly; she feels his smirk against her cheek as he spreads his fingers, displaying a bridge of her cum between them; she can practically see Daryl's heart pounding through his chest.

All three of them are shocked when he grabs Rick's wrist and brings the fingers to his mouth, sealing his lips around the knuckles. Beth pants as she watches the men lock eyes; watches the flutter of Daryl's cheek as his tongue begins to swirl; watches the blade of his cheekbone as he swallows it down, this mix of him and her.

Rick's dick twitches against her ass. She can feel the swallow work its way down his throat.

“Think we oughta find a bed right about now?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5,000 words of smut. That's basically it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessings to Mary for her beta'ing. 
> 
> I had so much fun with this, do not be surprised if there are more threesomes in your future.

She knows the way to Rick's bedroom, so that's where she takes them, leading them both by the hand until they stand arrayed in a triangle, Beth at the foot of the bed, open jeans clinging to her hips and pale skin nearly glowing in the lamplight. Daryl can feel Rick at the edge of his awareness, shoulder hovering a hair's breath from his as they look at the girl. Daryl can barely tear his eyes away from her perky breasts, the smooth skin of her flat stomach; he feels drunk on it, the sight of her, pink and gold and close enough he can hear her quiet, too quick breaths. He can't tell if she's nervous or excited, the way her eyes flutter between him and Rick, a flush spread all the way down to the tops of her breasts. Somehow that ambiguity makes him even harder.

Daryl looks at Rick just as Rick looks at him, and Rick holds his gaze, questioning. Daryl shifts on his feet, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give into the haze of sex already hovering over the room, lingering on his tongue from the salty taste of the two of them. Rick's fingers are still shiny with her cum and Daryl's spit where they tap against his thigh. He doesn't look nervous; just expectant. Waiting. Like Daryl's opened his mouth but hasn't yet tripped into the words.

“We gonna do this or what?”

They look at Beth, and she shifts a little under their renewed gaze. Her hands flutter like she wants to cover her breasts, do up her jeans; but then her back straightens and her chin comes up, like she's decided something; and she stands there proudly, glaring them down, wanting too.

Rick takes a step closer to put a hand on her shoulder, pale, slim-boned and smooth.

“You nervous?” he asks. He looks at Daryl too.

Her lips quirk. “Yeah.”

“Anything we can do?”

Beth flushes, and Daryl's fingers itch, watching the wave flow farther down her chest. He's trying to be good, he is, keep his eyes on her face; but the room is chilly, and even from here Daryl can see the goose-pimples rising on her breasts, the way her nipples pucker. He knows she sees him looking. His gut clenches with shame even as his cock throbs. Rick's looking at him again and another wave of lightheadedness goes through him at their combined attention.

“You can...” Beth says, drawing Rick's eyes back to her, “You can tell me what to do. Like last time. I liked that.”

“Don't really remember last time,” Rick say wryly; his thumb skates over her collarbone, and she shivers violently.

“You told me to touch myself,” Beth says. Her tone drops deep into Daryl's stomach. “I took my dress off and you watched me.” She licks her lips. She looks at Daryl. “You want that, Daryl?”

They're both looking at him again and he can barely breathe, looking between them. He wants to watch her—but he also wants to touch her himself, wants to discharge some of the want that's currently spinning him sideways. But he can see the blown black in Rick's eyes; can see the way his thumb is still stroking her skin. Can see the silent question that isn't really a question at all.

Rick's always been more patient than Daryl. He wants the show.

“Yeah,” Daryl says, barely more than a grunt. He nods to back it up, jerky. Rick looks at him skeptically, continuing to ask; Daryl nods again, more firmly, looking at Beth as she licks her lips again. Rick looks at her too. He rubs her shoulder; puts his other palm flat on her ribcage, slides it up to cup her breast. Beth bites her lip as he circles the nipple with his thumbnail. He pulls back to take the bud between thumb and forefinger, twisting gently.

“Harder,” Beth whispers, eyes round and doe-like. Rick glances at her, tweaks side to side. Rubs her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, and he _squeezes_ , drawing a strangled gasp and a bucking of her knees. Her eyes are locked to Rick's, chest heaving.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” she hisses between her teeth. Rick's still pinching her nipple, hard, rolling and tugging. Beth's face goes redder and redder, and she bites her lip against the pain—but Daryl can see the way she's rubbing her thighs together, the fluttering of her pulse in her neck. She loves it.

_Christ._

Rick releases her nipple to roll it under his palm, pulling her close with the hand on her shoulder and pushing with the one on her breast, rocking her side to side as her eyes flutter and she moans. The hand on her shoulder slides back to grip her neck; his thumb goes under her chin, tilting her head, revealing the pale column of throat.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, stroking her windpipe. He looks at Daryl. “Want a taste?”

Daryl doesn't let himself think; just steps forward and leans in, hand finding her bare shoulder as his lips suck onto her throat. She moans, and he feels the sound in his tonsils; it cuts short, and he pulls back to see Rick's lips and hers inches from his face, tangled together as Rick keeps her head tilted up with his thumb under her chin. Rick's hand continues to work her breast, and his tongue emerges from his mouth to stroke along hers, making her moan, making Daryl yank her close and drag his dick up and down her hip.

She's clutching him now too, hanging onto both of them as she makes out with Rick and Daryl watches, rubbing off on her leg and fighting the urge to yank Rick away, kiss him, kiss her, kiss both of them, himself, tangle his tongue with both of theirs as their bodies draw closer and he can't help the way his shoulder butts against Rick's, can't help the way he groans when Rick's eyes open and cut towards him. Rick pushes at Beth's throat, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to distance himself. She pulls back, gasping, hungry for his lips, and when Rick rears away she goes for Daryl instead, breaking out of Rick's grasp on her neck to pull Daryl's mouth to hers, hot and tasting like Rick, tipsy on tequila. Daryl groans and grips her face with both hands, kissing sloppy and deep as her hand goes down to squeeze the bulge in his pants. He has to break away for a moment, just to _breathe_ , and sees Rick kissing down the other side of her neck to her shoulder, sucking a deep bruise into the juncture. Daryl wants so much he can barely breathe.

“Tell me, Daryl,” Beth breathes, voice breaking as Rick uses his teeth, yanks her into him with a hand on her waist, rubs his own dick against her. Daryl can't even speak; just rocks into her hand, watching a drop of spit slide from the corner of Rick's mouth.

And suddenly Daryl needs more skin.

He grips her shoulder and yanks her in so she falls against the two of them, one hand on Rick's shoulder, the other on Daryl's as Daryl leans in, grabs her ass, grinds into her hand, and growls in a voice he didn't know he could make, “Time to take your pants off, baby.”

Rick hears him and chuckles. He gives her breast one last squeeze before stepping away, drawing Daryl after him with a hand on his arm.

The three of them stand panting, again in their triangle but somehow still tangled together as Rick rubs his hand absentmindedly against Daryl's arm. Beth's hand comes up to touch the breast Rick had worked, hovering over the angry purple peak before dropping again to her side, fingers twitching.

“Daryl...”

“You heard him,” Rick says. “Take 'em off.”

She meets Rick's eyes—swallows—and shimmies out of her jeans and panties.

Daryl forgets to breathe as she kicks the articles aside.

“Fuck,” Daryl gasps.

He feels Rick's glance lick up his skin. “Good, huh?”

Beth pinks under their scrutiny, but holds her head high.

“Tell me.”

Daryl growls.

“Play with your tits.”

Rick's hand spasms around his bicep, and Daryl can barely breathe as Beth's hands come up hesitantly, cupping and raising the flesh; her thumbs move over her nipples, rubbing in slow circles.

“Show me,” Daryl growls. He feels like he should flush, when they both look at him; but he can't think of anything beyond those nipples, uncovered and pushed and prodded by her thumbs, pointed towards him like rose-tipped arrows. Beth presses her breasts towards each other, moaning when her nails flick against the buds, fingers tickling the pale undersides. Her eyes close as her head tilts back, as she loses herself in the feeling of her own hands on her breasts, putting on a show for the two men in front of her, thighs clenching in rhythm. Daryl hears the rustle of Rick's jeans as he rubs at the bulge in his pants; would do it on himself, if he could feel anything below his wrists. Beth's eyes open, just a sliver, and she licks her lips again, mouth falling open.

“Get on the bed,” Rick says hoarsely.

She sits.

“Spread your legs for us, baby.”

She slides back a few feet and leans back on her elbows. She spreads her thighs. Her pussy glistens in the lamplight, curls damp and sweet-looking, blonde and curlicued. Her calves tremble a little, as they look their fill.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Daryl says again.

“You keep saying that, but no one's doin' it,” Beth says, teasing even as her voice trips with arousal. Daryl can see her clenching and unclenching her pussy muscles, can see her fingers scratching at the sheets. She looks from Daryl to Rick and back again, legs opening farther, the smell of her cunt pervading the room.

“Who you want first, Beth?” Rick asks. His hand is still on Daryl's arm.

“You choose,” Beth says. She tosses her head, flicking her shoulder with the end of her mangled ponytail. Daryl's arms twitch; Rick squeezes back.

“You wanna fuck her, Daryl?”

He asks in a tone that makes Daryl's heart pound. Daryl glances at him, at his calm eyes and tented jeans, and a shiver slices through Daryl's spine.

“Hell yeah,” Daryl says.

“Go on, then.”

Daryl hesitates, then brings his hands to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling a little when Rick's hand moves to his shoulder blade—in support, or something else—and they're both watching as he shucks the shirt, moves on to his pants.

“Wait,” Beth says.

He pauses, touching the button, the hint of fingers against his cock nearly unbearable as her eyes zero in on him.

“Rick should do it.”

Daryl blinks at her.

“Huh?”

Beth brings a hand down to rub at her inner thigh. “You want this?” she asks. Daryl hears Rick groan. “Then help him with his pants.”

Daryl can hardly breathe as Rick’s hand comes back to Daryl's shoulder, burning into his skin. Daryl can't look at him yet, but he can feel him; he's stepped closer, would be plastered to Daryl's side but for Daryl's arm in the way, and the heat he gives off is enormous. It reminds Daryl of the parking lot in Atlanta—the night wet and heady as they stumbled together, giggling the way men only do when they're drunk, drunk enough to touch, drunk enough to feel the press of a hand to the side of the throat and take it for invitation; drunk enough to roll their tongues together, to fall against the hood of a stranger's car and thrust into each other's thighs. There had been one moment when Rick reached down to touch him, just one; and he felt it as little more than a brushing glance before Rick regained his wits and withdrew, pushed his forehead into Daryl's shoulder and laughed, laughed.

“I'm so fucking drunk, brother.”

The vodka had been thick and heavy on his breath, washing Daryl's skin with the promise of soon forgetting—but it's clean now, Rick's breath, what little Daryl tastes of it as they turn towards each other, skin pricking under Beth's eyes and the smell of her cunt in the air as Rick levels his familiar blue gaze. So calm, he looks, and Daryl tries to swallow down the wildness of his own eyes as Rick's hands fall to the snap of Daryl's jeans. Daryl doesn't look down, and somehow that's worse; he gets to see Rick's brow furrow in concentration, something maybe akin to want as his knuckles skate down Daryl's happy trail, pause as Daryl's abdomen trembles. Rick looks up and Daryl looks away, looks at Beth, waiting on the bed; she is rapt, lips parted as her breaths rumble out, watching Rick undo the button and slide the zipper down and pull Daryl's boxers along with his jeans down his thighs.

Beth makes a sound deep in her throat as Daryl's dick springs up towards his stomach, and Daryl decides to forget about Rick, for now; forget the feeling of his fingers skating down Daryl's thighs, the way Daryl, for a moment, felt a wash of breath against his cock; forget the way Rick looked at him, when he saw his cock jump.

He can worry about Rick later; right now, Beth is scooting up the bed, closing her legs to roll over and root around in the night table, return with a condom, triumphant. She is lying back against the pillows, legs spread again, hands cupping her inner thighs like they want to dip deeper; looking at Daryl, looking at his cock, how ready he is to fuck her—and suddenly Daryl needs to be inside her so very badly.

“Christ, she’s beautiful,” Rick says, and Daryl doesn't look at him; just strides naked towards the bed, turning it into a strut, a dance, seeing Beth shrink back against the pillows, face wide and flushed with arousal, pussy dripping. He doesn't pause as he reaches the bed, but crawls up towards her, not thinking about the eyes he feels hot on his ass; not thinking about the snick of a zipper and the rustle of cotton as he reaches Beth and slides a hand up her leg. She plants her feet on the bed, lifts her hips a little, and Daryl finds it an invitation he can't say no to.

All three of them hiss when he leans forward to taste her.

Her hips buck with just the brush of his breath, and his arms come up to hook over her legs, spreading her open with his forearms as he gazes down at her, loving the way she trembles, the way her pussy shudders. He growls a little, at how wet she is; stares at her, the diamond flushed and pink, practically oozing and begging the tongue that swipes over it, slow and slithering across her already soaked skin.

Beth gasps out some aborted syllable as he laps at her spilled juices, groaning low in his throat at her taste—sweet and a little salty and damp against his scruff as he rubs his cheek on her thigh. He looks up and sees her watching him, little breasts heaving and mouth open; their eyes lock, and he can't help the smirk that slides onto his face, crinkling his cheeks and quirking his mouth and making her eyes widen before he frames her pussy with his hands and dives back in, licking up one fold and down the other, circling her entrance and nibbling on her lips as she moans loudly. He grinds his dick into the sheets at the sounds and the smell of her, hot and wet beneath him. He gets so lost in her taste it takes several moments to realize the pressure on his head is her hands, trying to pull him up, up to the bundle of nerves that he licks around before sealing his lips over and sucking on, looking up her arched body to her wild blue eyes as they squeeze shut and he feels her muscles begin to flutter beneath his chin—

“Wait.”

Daryl turns, and Rick has his dick in his hand.

He hears Beth's intake of breath as she sees it too—as it becomes real to her, as it does to Daryl, what they're about to do in this room. He bites his lip as his eyes connect with Rick's; as Rick pulls his boxer-briefs further aside; runs his hand down his long, slim length, twisting his wrist around the circumcised head in a move Daryl wants to watch long enough to memorize.

Rick's eyes are dark, eyelids heavy. He holds the base of his dick; presenting himself, almost, in the way his hip cocks and his hand wags.

“Let's fuck her first.”

There's little Daryl can say to that, so he doesn't; just turns back to Beth; sees that she has her breasts in her hands again, is rolling them beneath her palms as she blinks rapidly, still trembling from her aborted orgasm. She bites her lip as he scoots to his knees, looming over her, big and broad above her slight form. He feels more than sees Rick move to sit beside him; he glances at the other man when his hand comes out to stroke Beth's thigh, slide over the light blonde hairs.

“Please,” she whispers.

Rick's hand finds her pussy as she draws in a breath, and the air hitches in her lungs, catches somewhere between her chest and her throat. Daryl watches as Rick slides his first two knuckles up and down in the valley between her labia, spreading the lips and making the moist skin glitter. Beth's hand flutters towards his wrist, then back up to her breast, then to fist in the pillow by her head as Rick's thumb finds her clit, rubs it softly back and forth, rolling the hood back to let it stand taut and proud. Beth's breathing is growing labored again from his light, teasing touches; Daryl looks at her face and nearly comes himself from the sight; eyes wide and wild, rolling, sucking him down.

“Rick,” she says.

“Tell us, baby,” Rick says, stroking two fingers around her entrance, grinning when she whimpers. “Tell us what you want.”

“Fuck me.”

Running his index finger once around the loosened ring of muscles, he begins to slide it inside; just an inch, but she still moans, loudly, tossing her head back.

“Please,” she whimpers.

“Gonna have to be more specific than that,” Daryl says. He flushes under the smirk Rick shoots him, at his pride in Daryl for playing his game; his finger is inside Beth and his other hand is still on his cock, thumbing the leaking head. Beth turns her head between them, mouth gaping, as Rick slides his finger farther into her cunt.

“Daryl...”

“You heard me,” Daryl says as Rick rocks his finger slowly, in and out. “Gotta be specific.”

“You want my finger just like that, baby?” Rick asks. Daryl can hear his hand around his cock now, the slight schlick as he strokes himself. “You like what I'm doing?”

“Yes,” Beth moans. Rick's going deeper, now, up to his knuckle, and her hips are moving with him, contorting as she tries to reach him with her clit. “Please, you already, I have'ta...”

“Just say it, baby,” Rick whispers, hand jerking. “Tell Daryl what you want.”

“I want your cock,” Beth whispers.

Rick rolls in deeper, searching her spongy insides until—

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” Beth swears, arching off the bed.

Rick jerks his chin, and Daryl reaches for the foil lying abandoned by her head; watches her blue eyes track him as he rips it open with his teeth, Rick still stroking her g-spot, Daryl's eyes hot on her face as he slides the rubber down his length.

“Louder,” Daryl growls, wrapping his hand around his dick and nearly crying when he hears Rick's hiss, how good it feels to touch himself.

“I want your cock in me,” she damn near sobs. Daryl's breathing like an animal now, heavy and fast and Rick isn't far behind as he withdraws his finger, making room for Daryl to go up on his knees, pulls Beth closer until his dick taps against her leg. She tries to go up on her elbows but he pushes her back, climbs between her thighs and rubs her whole pussy with his hand, watching her face as her head tosses; takes the hand from her pussy and grabs her wrist, stretching it above her head; sees it in her eyes, the moment his cock slips inside her, easy and smooth with the most glorious stretch.

“Ahhhhh,” she gasps out, long and high and needy as he adjusts to her, attempts a few shallow thrusts, eyes squeezed shut as he tries not to come because God, even if it hadn't been years since he'd had his dick inside another living thing, he'd lose control just from the smell of her, her body and her juices drying on his face, spicy and sweet, swirling in his nostrils as he leans into her wrist, sucking into her neck and bearing in deeper until he bottoms out, pelvis to pelvis, rolling himself against her sharp hipbones.

“How does she feel, Daryl?” Rick asks, close enough to touch, putting a hand on Daryl's back as he kneels on the bed.

“Fuckin' perfect,” Daryl grunts, and she moans again, pussy squeezing and hips bucking. It's so much and not enough; the slick glove of her around his dick, the grasp of her little hand around his bicep and the tickle of her fingers where he holds her down, Rick's hand sliding to the small of his back to set the rhythm of his thrusts. No matter how he bears into her, her little body won't keep still; continues to contort and writhe, gripping his cock with her pussy muscles until Daryl sees stars. He grunts, giving a jagged thrust, has to pause a moment to keep from coming.

“You'd best behave you want this to last, girl.”

“I got two of you,” she pants, pushing some hair out of her face, throwing a breathless grin between them, “I don't gotta behave at all.”

Rick chuckles, darkly, in a way that draws both their eyes and curls something dangerous into the root of Daryl's stomach. Daryl bares his teeth, breathing through his nose, burned by her cunt and the press of Rick's hand.

“What do you think we ought'a do to you for that, Beth?”

Beth grins, and Daryl chokes.

“Find a way to shut me up.”

Daryl only misses Rick's hand on him for a moment before Rick is pulling his sweater over his head and kicking out of his jeans and underwear. Daryl's seen him naked before, but never so close, and never aroused, and a tingle runs down Daryl's dick as he stares at the cock standing proud and delicious from its thick patch of curls.

Beth seems to have the same reaction as Rick crawls towards the head of the bed, staring and licking her lips as it bobs closer and closer. Daryl's still buried to the hilt and he can hardly breathe as Rick lies down beside her and takes his dick in hand, leading it towards her lips. He looks at Daryl, and winks.

“Open up, baby.”

Beth's lips seal around the head without hesitation, and she moans so deeply Daryl feels it in his own dick.

“Christ.”

“Keep going, Daryl,” Rick says, voice throaty and fluttering. “Keep fucking her.”

And Daryl does. He goes onto his hands and pistons in and out, eyes devouring the sight of Rick playing with Beth's tits, of Rick's gentle thrusts that lead his dick deeper and deeper into her mouth, of her eyes opened to slits and rolling back in pleasure. She sucks Rick’s cock like she loves it, laving her tongue along the shaft before taking him deep enough there’s barely room for her hand to stroke the base. Rick watches her with heavy lidded eyes, gaze sliding from the drool coating his cock to her bobbing tits to the space between her legs that Daryl fills. Gazing through his bangs, he meets Rick’s eyes, and he feels something in him fall apart.

As Daryl struggles to tear his eyes away from Rick’s, he hits something inside Beth that makes her eyes shoot open as she trembles, dragging her mouth off of Rick's dick to moan, “There, fuck—“

And Daryl leans down and grabs her and rolls them onto their sides, hitching her leg over his hip so he can pound into her in sharp jerks of his hips that slam her back into Rick where's he's plastered himself against her back, where Daryl can tell by the circling of her hips he's rubbing his dick against her ass. Daryl leans down and bites at Beth's nipple as her fingers tangle in his hair and he feels a rough hand shove down between their sweaty stomachs, fumble against Daryl's plunging dick until Beth announces her clit with a high breathy gasp. Daryl raises his head just in time to watch her come, mouth gaped and eyes squeezed as she milks his own orgasm out of him, thrusting and sputtering and moaning as Rick's hand finds his ass and helps him along.

Daryl groans loudly and rolls onto his back. He slips out of Beth and drags her with him, clutching her like a lifeline. He reaches between them to drag off the condom, tie it and toss it off the bed. She raises herself on shaky hands so she can look down at him. He laughs a little, breathlessly, as she presses a chaste kiss to his mouth, pulls back to smile through her decimated ponytail. It almost stops his heart, how beautiful she is; nipples tickling the hair on his chest; cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed with orgasm; lips red from stretching around Rick's cock. She threads her hands through Daryl's hair and opens her mouth when her eyes go _wide_ —

—and Daryl leans around her to see Rick's found his own condom and has buried himself in her from behind, is fucking her on top of Daryl's body.

“You aren't done yet, darling,” Rick whispers in her ear, breath washing across Daryl's mouth and he's close enough to kiss but he doesn’t, not when he feels Rick's balls slap against him as he begins to move, as his dick squeezes Beth's liquids into the crack of Daryl's ass.

“God, Rick,” Beth gasps, and Daryl's fingers spasm around Beth's hips as Rick raises his hand and slaps Beth's ass, watching it jiggle as she jumps and slapping her again, making her shudder and curl herself harder into Daryl's body. Their faces are breathtaking—Beth’s eyes wide as saucers, rose petal lips opening and closing in time with Rick’s thrusts; Rick’s teeth bared in a snarl as he pounds into her, knees planted between Daryl’s legs and hand close enough to Daryl’s face that he can feel his knuckles on his cheek. The friction, the weight of them is almost too much for Daryl's over-sensitized dick but as his eyes lock with Rick's he wouldn't trade it for anything; as the girl between them curses and shudders and Rick's lips linger so close, closing around the curve of Beth's ear as he watches Daryl, barely blinking.

“Rick...” Daryl rasps, and Rick squeezes his eyes and comes.

Daryl has the wherewithal to pick up where Rick left off, finger Beth until she follows, trembling between them and pressing her open mouth to Daryl's chest.

They lie there for several moments in a breathless heap; Daryl can still feel Beth’s liquids trickling down his balls, and he has a sudden vision of the two of them between his legs cleaning him up. He squeezes his eyes against the fantasy, the feeling of it is so intense, as Rick rolls to one side and Beth to the other, and Daryl's chest expands as he sucks in his first clear breath.

Daryl turns towards Beth as she curls into him, flinging a leg across his and stretching her neck lazily. She fingers the pink ring of teeth marks Rick left on her ear, and his stomach clenches when he feels Rick fling his near arm across the pillow, bicep pressed to the top of Daryl's head. He focuses on Beth, on her radiance as she looks up at him, smiling, pink nipples still flushed.

“Wow,” she says, and giggles, spreading her hand across his breastbone. “Bet you’re glad you gave me your bacon, huh?”

Something in her tone feels unbearably dirty, even after when they’ve just shared, and Daryl flushes. He's about to reply, say something dumb, when he feels a tug on the back of his head; he turns, and Rick is kissing him.

Through this whole night, he thought it would be something momentous, if their lips ever touched, something to ignite his skin—but it's more than that; as Rick's smooth lips move across his chapped ones and Beth's little body shifts beside him, he feels less like exploding than sinking, phasing into the mattress until he becomes part of the springs, trapped between these two and the sheets until the end of his days.

It takes a few moments of feeling Rick's breath against his lips before Daryl can open his eyes, fluttering almost into Rick's own long lashes, he's lying so close. He blinks to bring the other man in to focus, see through the exhausted tears that have suddenly sprung up in his eyes. He clears them, and Rick is smiling; he puts his hand on Daryl's cheek, and kisses him again.

A breathy moan comes from Daryl's other side and they break apart, turning to the girl of blonde and pink with her hand between her legs.

Daryl raises his eyebrows, and Beth grins, sugary sweet and curled like sin, rolling onto her back so she can spread her legs and the men can see. Her index finger moves delicately across her clit, stretching the skin; Rick's hand settles low on Daryl's stomach and Daryl feels his dick begin to stir to life again.

“Keep kissing,” Beth says, low and throaty. Daryl feels Rick's lips on his neck, and lets out a moan. He reaches out and grabs Beth by the shoulders, dragging her in so he can feel the movements of her arm as she works herself. He watches her slim fingers as they part her pussy lips, her eyes as Rick's mouth moves closer to his.

Right before Rick's lips find his—before Beth's spare hand meets Rick's around his hardening dick; right before they once again become a tangle of limbs and skin—he growls four small words—words that make Rick chuckle and her moan, and both of them clutch him harder:

“Only if you scream.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that some of the dialogue is OOC; I had to choose between character-specific and what makes me tingle, and. Well. Hope it was enjoyable anyway.


End file.
